Wonderful Disasters
by Ellie Lankford
Summary: A tale of Wall Street meets Main Street. Canon parings. Follows original P&P plot close-ish-ly at first, then diverges pretty heavily in the middle. Rated M for Charlotte's consistently foul mouth, Darcy's occasional naughty thoughts, and Lizzy's completely accidental violent outbursts.
1. Harsh Honesty

Charles Bingley was heartsick. Again. It was an affliction he had become quite familiar with over the years. And to be fair he almost always had it coming. Charlie was an easy mark. As in severely gullible. As in 'Oh, that guy who had his tongue down your throat was your acting coach? You were doing a scene? Bravo. Totally convincing'. As in 'Oh, whoops, you happened to leave your screen play on my coffee table right before my dad, who happens to be a world renown director, happened to come by my condo. How fortuitous.' Charlie's natural kindness and famous father made him a target for every unscrupulous wannabe actress, director, and writer Los Angeles had to offer.

"My life is a disaster," Bingley declared the moment his best friend, Will Darcy, answered the phone. He was calling from some lame night club his sister Caroline had dragged him to in a misguided attempt to cheer him up.

"By your melodramatic statement and slurred tone I would assume you have a vodka tonic sitting in front of you." Darcy stated dryly. _And no doubt have already knocked several others back_.

"You're right. You're the only one who knows me."

"That's doubtful . . .your mother for example."

"I have no one. No one special."

"Ah. I see. You and Lily broke up?" Darcy didn't mean to sound so unfeeling but he and Bingley had this conversation about once a month.

Bingley whimpered. He would completely deny it tomorrow when Darcy called to check up on him but he had definitely just whimpered into the phone. It was so pathetic it was amusing.

"She was another actress. I've told you to stop it with the actresses," Darcy lectured. It was very difficult not to be condescending when one's best friend insisted on acting like a dumbass.

"No, Lily and I broke up two weeks ago. This one's name was Ana," Bingley admitted reluctantly, his voice so soft it was nearly a whisper. Even drunk he realized how ridiculous he sounded.

"Good God. Are you trying to tell me you're heartbroken over some girl you met last week?"

Bingley made no reply for so long that Darcy began to wonder if he had hung up on him, "Twelve days."

"Excuse me?"

"I met her twelve days ago." Bingley meekly repeated.

Darcy replied with a chuckle that turned into a fool blown laugh despite his best attempts to hide it, "I'm sorry, Charlie."

Bingley burst out in laughter as well, "No. That's quite all right. It's pretty fucking hilarious when I say it out loud."

When the laughter died down Bingley returned to his serious tone, "My life _is_ a disaster, though."

"No, it's not. You suffer from a lack of purpose. It's the side effect of having a trust fund."

"I know my purpose. I just can never . . .ugh, I don't know . . . everything I try just turns out shitty."

"How pessimistic. Very unlike you," Darcy was beginning to feel legitimately concerned for his friend. Bingley was always on the wrong side of love and tended to bounce back quickly from disappointment. But he'd been floundering along in his professional life since graduating college, and though Darcy had notice this quite some time ago, he had assumed since Bingley had never mentioned it that it did not bother him. "Buck up and write your damn screenplay already. You can never know if it will be shitty unless you finish it."

"But—."

Darcy interrupted him before he could make an excuse, "And stay away from toxic women.

Get a dog if you're that lonely."

Bingley was shocked speechless.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I've been up all night working on this proposal."

"No, you're being truthful. Thank you." Bingley sounding suddenly cheerful, "I shouldn't have called so late. I always forget about the time difference. It must be nearly three in the morning in New York?"

Darcy nodded in agreement as if Bingley could see him.

"Is this proposal important?"

"No, not really. They'll just fuck me out of a billion if I screw it up. A very small concern, indeed." Darcy replied with an air of sarcasm.

"It is. You never screw up, Darce." Bingley retorted, his tone filled with veneration.

Darcy let out a bark of forced laughter, "Clearly you don't pay much attention to the stock market if you believe that."

"It is that bad then?"

"Bad, but not devastating. Georgie and I are still richer than you." Darcy quipped.

Bingley paused he knew that Will Darcy based his success on more than money. He had a legacy to uphold, a duty that he took very seriously. Bingley had always admired Darcy for that. So many children of wealthy parents saw it as their right to spend their parents money, never contributing any distinction to the family name (his sister Caroline, for instance), Bingley wished to add to his father's legacy but had yet to find a way to do so.

"Everything okay with you and Julia?" Bingley queried. Darcy rarely talked about his personal life (Darcy rarely talked about anything, really) but Bingley thought he should at least ask.

"Julia and I have gone our separate ways. About two months ago, actually." Darcy said without emotion.

It was perfectly fine that Darcy was such a stoic because Bingley always had an emotional reaction for him, "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't important. I hardly notice her absence."

"What happen?"

Darcy huffed, as if annoyed to have to explain something so trivial, "She and I had both been so busy we'd barely seen each other in months, I was forced to forgo our planned vacation by the nightmare that is Sentinel Financial, she went alone and she met someone."

"She cheated on you!"

"Your outrage on my behalf is heartwarming, but it wasn't like that . . . . Well, I suppose it was, but I can't say I care."

"Of course you care." This idea of not caring about something like a breakup was incomprehensible to the softhearted Bingley.

"I really don't. I didn't love her. She didn't love me. It was only reasonable for her to act as she did." Will Darcy realized that he sounded like a robot. But it was the truth. He never really had time to develop much feeling in his romantic relationships.

He didn't really have much time for any of his relationships actually. Charles Bingley was his only true friend, yet he might go weeks without speaking to him. He hadn't seen his cousin Rick, who he had been so close to as a child, in a month and they lived in the same city. His godfather, Graham Thornton, was the only person beyond his sister who he saw with any regularity but their conversations tended to be overwhelmingly business related these days.

Darcy's life had been one crisis after another lately. Ever since agreeing to serve on the board of directors for Sentinel Financial he'd been under constant pressure which had only been compounded by a nearly life-ruining event involving his little sister, Georgiana. All this turmoil had affected him much more than he let on, he hadn't been sleeping he'd barely eaten anything in days. He took Georgie's disaster as a personal failure. Ever since their father's death nine years prior, Darcy had been his sister's guardian, she had always been an easy charge, looking to him more as a father than an older brother, until two months ago when she had found herself in juvenile court.

Darcy himself was still not fully clear on what had happened, he just knew he was an epic failure as a guardian. Georgiana refused to discuss it, refused to even speak to him about anything actually. Rick, the only other person who knew about the incident, insisted that Georgie was embarrassed and afraid that she had forever disappointed the older brother who she revered. Darcy feared that _she_ was disappointed in _him_. He had neglected her greatly, spending far too much time worrying about the future of Sentinel and the other Darcy family investments.

With all that was going on it was easy to understand how Darcy could take Julia's defection so lightly. Darcy of course could not explain all of this to Bingley. Though he would trust the man with his life, Darcy never was one for lengthy heartfelt talks and with Bingley he knew he could never divulge all of this to him without a great deal of analysis to follow. Honestly, Bing should really consider becoming a therapist. Besides, Georgie had begged him not to tell anyone (especially not Charlie who Darcy suspected she had a bit of a school-girl crush on).

Sensing Darcy's reluctance to speak, Bingley broke the silence, "I have been troubling you too long with my silly problems. I should let you sleep."

They both knew Darcy wouldn't be sleeping, not when he had something before him that he was determined to finish, "I'm always happy to hear from you, Charles," Darcy said, some emotion seeping into his voice, "I should call more. I should . . . ." _Actually communicate about my life to the people who matter to me. _Instead of completing his thought he simply said,"Good night."

Even a bit sloshed Bingley knew something was bothering Darcy, something far beyond Julia's betrayal. He also knew Darcy was not the sort of person one could press for information so he let him go with a, "You too," vowing to call him again soon.


	2. Netherfield Lodge Is Let At Last!

There was paint and potting soil everywhere. Yet somehow none of it was in the places it ought to be. Meryton town square looked a mess and even the generally ebullient Mayor Lucas appeared a bit concerned. And it was all Lizzy Bennet's fault. Sort of. She had been conned into heading a town beautification project by her father who, as the Meryton Commissioner of Tourism, the honor should have fallen to.

Meryton was one of those quaint Midwestern towns whose Main Street forced drivers to do a full lap around the diminutive courthouse before continuing on their merry way. Mayor Lucas had been convinced for some time now that Meryton town square needed something to distinguish it from all the other towns (something beyond the headless statue of the town's founder). So he had pressed the town council to come up with something and they had the brilliant idea of a community mural (somehow defacing a public building became completely okay when you called it a mural rather than graffiti). They had also had the brilliant idea of drafting Mr. Bennet to organize said event because he was so well-known for his get-up-and-go attitude (sarcasm).

Never one for event planning, Lizzy had haphazardly bought several cans of paint and about a hundred potted begonias. Her next step had been to find some poor fools who would be willing to give up this sunny, April Saturday to beautify the courthouse lawn and walkway. Fortunately, Lizzy's sister Jane used her connections at the local elementary school to get the students involved. Sturdy Oaks Senior Living Facility, always eager to air out their residents, sent volunteers to plant the flowers. And Mrs. Long, who ran the animal shelter, completely of her own volition (and without consulting Lizzy) provided snacks and lemonade to anyone who was willing to walk one of the many very sad and horribly ugly dogs she'd brought. The event had practically planned itself and Lizzy was left taking all the credit for this messy, noisy, and frankly a little smelly project.

Lizzy watched as her older sister navigated through a sea of five-year olds and their proud parents. Jane's gaudy ABC sweater was covered in a rainbow of color, totally ruined, a fact that should make their mother beyond pleased. "Isn't it wonderful?" she exclaimed when she reached Lizzy's side. Ah, to live in the world of Jane Bennet. It must be glorious indeed.

"You and Mom have a distorted definition of the word wonderful." Lizzy said dryly.

Charlotte Lucas's view of the event was far more accurate. "This is a disaster," she declared appearing beside the sisters.

"A wonderful disaster," Lizzy amended.

Charlotte turned and pointed to the white hand print on the back of her new jeans, "I spend all week with creepy old men grabbing my ass and now you expect me to do it in my time off as well."

"Oh, but it was such a wonderful idea to get the seniors home, the grade school, and the animal shelter involved in one project."

There was that word again—wonderful. Now Lizzy was becoming suspicious. Jane was generally cheerful but right now she sounded too chipper. Someone-sprinkled-Prozac-on-my-Cheerios- this-morning chipper. Jane, unlike ninety-nine percent of the human population, got more cheerful as a situation got stressful and if her dazzling, if a little stiff smile was any indication she must be seriously stressed.

Okay, yeah, the project had gone a bit awry. The kids were supposed to paint a mural and it had turned into a mural and a sidewalk painting, with a bit of artwork on the founder's statue and a large portion of the nearest lamppost covered in orange paint. But what could be expected of five-year olds? Jane did the best she could looking after her class. The kids' parents were certainly very little help.

"Don't worry about the paint. Anything a kindergartener does is cute."

"I'm not worried about the paint. The kids are so proud of their work and it's such a wonderful opportunity for them to bond with the elderly."

"My old people are far more out of control than the mini demons." Charlotte interjected. Char was grudgingly the head nurse at Sturdy Oaks, Meryton's premier (and only) senior living facility.

"Speaking of which, is that one escaping?" Lizzy queried pointing to a wheelchair-bound elder who was attempting to flee the courthouse lawn.

"Bridget!" Charlotte yelled getting the attention of a scrub-clad nurse, "The cuckoo has flown the coop". The nurse still seemed clueless, "Mr. Teller is about to roll into oncoming traffic." Charlotte explained calmly.

"Ugh, can't I get a day off? How hard is it to keep track of the barely mobile?" Char grumbled to herself.

"Why are you here?" Lizzy asked, knowing this wasn't really her friend's scene.

"Politics, Lizzy, politics. Dad says we must stand together as a family in the face of his opponents."

Lizzy raised her eyebrows disbelievingly, "He ran unopposed the last two elections."

"Fine, I'm here because I love you and I support you even when you come up with something as stupid as this. Really Liz, kids, geezers and mutts? That's the trifecta of annoying."

"It's wonderful." Jane chimed. Lizzy and Charlotte exchanged wary looks, Jane pressed on not noticing their concern, "It really is. The kids have enjoyed it so much." Affectionately patting her sister's hands she added, "You planned this so well."

"Oh, God." Charlotte said staring with genuine horror at something in the crowd by the courthouse steps.

"What?" Jane and Lizzy asked at the same time.

"Debbie Goulding is wearing the Supervillain Hat."

Mrs. Goulding only brought out her elaborate feathered hat (far more suitable for the Kentucky Derby or a royal wedding than an event on the Meryton courthouse square) when she had something to gloat about and considering the intense rivalry between the Gouldings and the Bennets the appearance of the Supervillian Hat could never be good.

"She's just had some good news." Jane said, her voice betraying no emotion but Lizzy knew that any mention of the Gouldings caused her older sister pain, "I heard from Mrs. Long that Aaron got an acting gig . . .a commercial, I think. It's wonderful, he has wanted to be an actor for so long."

"What company would want that smarmy asshole representing their product?" Charlotte exclaimed far too loudly.

"Char, you really don't need to disparage him for my sake." Jane could never allow mean things to be said in her presence. Even if those mean things were about the rat bastard ex-fiancé who had broken her heart.

"It is rather difficult not to disparage Aaron Goulding," Lizzy quipped. Aaron held a top ranking spot on Lizzy's shit list. She was about to expound on the many failings of Jane's ex when a familiar shriek interrupted her.

Franny Bennet's old Toyota Camry had just rumbled into the square. Mrs. Bennet leapt from the passenger side and released an inhuman squeal presumably of excitement, completely abandoning her youngest daughter, Lydia, as she struggled to parallel park.

"Jane? Lizzy?" Mrs. Bennet was practically running across the courthouse lawn amidst a sea of bewildered spectators.

"Should we hide?" Lizzy asked. Jane gave her a scolding look.

"Too late. She's spotted you." Charlotte chimed far too cheerily for Lizzy's taste.

Mrs. Bennet hurtled over to her daughters' side. She was absolutely vibrating from excitement, "Have you heard?"

Assuming that their mother would not be so exuberant over Aaron Goulding finally launching his acting career, both sisters indicated they had not.

"Netherfield Lodge has been let!" Her mother's excitement was reasonable. Well, perhaps not that level of excitement. Lizzy was quite certain that such exuberance should be reserved for winning the lottery or discovering the cure for cancer.

But having Netherfield Lodge rented so early in the season _was _impressive. Netherfield Lodge was the jewel of Silver Lakes Village, the rental cabin business which the Bennet's owned. Ed Bennet, having inherited a huge swath of wooded land, had come up with the genius idea of building a vacation resort, certain that the many attractions of Meryton, Indiana would draw in the tourists like crazy (he was very young and idealistic at the time of this venture). Surprisingly, the business did moderately well with most of the cabins being rented out by kid's camps and corporate retreats throughout the summer.

Netherfield Lodge was the exception. That cabin had been a thorn in the Bennet's side since it had been built. It had been her father's grand scheme, a massive lodge with all the luxury of a five star hotel (okay, three star hotel).

Mr. Bennet had thought it would be reserved well in advance for the whole summer season each year. He had been terribly wrong. A local company would reserve it for their corporate retreat for a week every year and the Crofts would rent it for the whole of December. If the Bennets were lucky the odd honeymooners or spring breakers might splurge and rent Netherfield for a week or two, but beyond that the lodge mostly sat empty. To make matters worse something always was going wrong with it. One year the plumbing backed up, the next year a tree fell through the roof. It was a money pit without denial.

"How long is the lease?" Jane queried her calm demeanor in complete contrast to her mother's ecstasy.

"From May to September!"

"What?" Lizzy almost shrieked herself.

Mrs. Bennet grabbed her daughter and did what could only be described as a jig. "And that's not even the best part!" Pulling Jane into their little dance she continued, "Oh Jane, it's the most wonderful news. Netherfield Lodge has been taken by a young man! And he's rich!"

Lizzy's joy ended abruptly. She knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

"His name is Charlie Bingley and his father is that director that makes all those awful movies where everything blows up. He has a trust fund. And he's single! Isn't this just the most wonderful thing that ever happened?"

Before either daughter could answer, Mrs. Bennet had launched into another round of animated chatter, "Jane you must go someplace fancy and get some new clothes." She approached her oldest child with a scrutinizing glare, "That horrid sweater is ruined. Thank goodness!"

"Mom, this was a gift from my students—."

Mrs. Bennet heedlessly pressed on, "And a new haircut," she added fingering Jane's blond locks. "_Not_ at Kathy's Kuts. Charlotte, I know you got yours cut there last week but it looks like Kathy was drunk when she did it." It was true that Char's new pixie cut looked like it had been accomplished with a chain saw, but Lizzy really wished her mother would have the grace not to insult her friends in public.

Mrs. Bennet released a long sigh, "It's finally your time, Jane. You're so beautiful, it's a good thing you didn't waste yourself on that Goulding boy."

Jane visibly paled at yet another mention of her ex-fiancé. Lizzy rested a reassuring hand on her back. Their mother unsurprisingly did not notice Jane's distress.

"This Charlie Bingley will fall in love with you for sure. And you will have a mansion in Malibu and go to parties with actors and models. And maybe he can get you a role in one of his father's movies, and then _you'll_ be an actress."

Lizzy let out a snort. She should have kept it under control for the sake of Jane's feelings, but really, a person can only take so much.

"She'd be a wonderful actress, Lizzy. Don't you remember how good she was in _South Pacific_?"

"Mom, I'm very happy as a teacher. And even if this man was interested in me, I don't feel ready to start dating again." Jane said firmly. She always tried to be so reasonable with their mother. It never worked.

Mrs. Bennet huffed, "It's been almost a year since the incident." The Incident. That was what the Bennets all called it now in an effort to spare Jane's feelings.

Lizzy's ire had nearly reached a breaking point. Just as she was about to come to Jane's defense Mrs. Lucas appeared across the lawn and Mrs. Bennet scurried off to tell her friend the news.

"I'm sorry she's always on about you dating." Lizzy said, pulling her still stricken sister into a hug.

Jane shook her head sadly, "It _has_ almost been a year. I should be ready to move on . . . it's just . . . I don't know. It's still so hard to believe. He and I were together for five years."

Then Jane started to cry. Jane never cried. At least not where anyone else could see her. Lizzy would come upon her with red swollen eyes and Jane would insist she hadn't been crying, just allergies (that she didn't have). And then she'd change the subject putting on a lovely, everything-is-so-wonderful smile. Lizzy whispered words of comfort as best she could, all the while seething with rage at her mother and Aaron Goulding.

Lizzy had never liked Aaron Goulding. She hadn't liked him when he and Jane had gone off to college, with Jane giving up her chance to attend to her dream school so they could stay together. She hadn't liked him when he and Jane got engaged their senior year and Jane gave him a loan to buy the ring and then a month later he bought a new motorcycle.

Lizzy had never, ever liked him. She could see from the beginning that he was a creep, a user, and above all a moron. But Jane could never see it. Because she was Jane and her world was full of rainbows and unicorns and nice people. And so Lizzy had never said anything to Jane about him and now she really wished she had because that jerk had gone and broken her sister's heart.

Of course, he had done it in the most public and devastating way possible. Aaron and Jane had planned to get married a month after they graduated. They were going to move back to Meryton, get a little house with a white picket fence, have two point five children, and live happily ever after. Mr. Bennet had even helped Jane put a down payment on a little house (picket fence not included) right beside Meryton Elementary where Jane had already gotten a job.

Jane's life was progressing perfectly until one fine June day she was standing at the altar of Silver Lakes Chapel wearing a gorgeous white dress, waiting for a groom who would never show. He left town that day, which Lizzy counted as a good thing because if she were to see him she would be compelled to kill him. Aaron never explained himself to Jane, just tweeted that he was, "Moving to Hollywood bitches."

It came out a week later that he and Sasha Lewis had run away to California in her grandma's Buick. Aaron was going to be an actor, Sasha a singer. After years of repressing their desire for both fame and each other they had finally made a stand for their dreams and were certain success would soon follow (after all, they had also been in the Meryton High School production of _South Pacific_ and it had received rave reviews in the _Meryton Journal_).

Sasha had returned four months later. It seems it was better to be a waitress in Meryton with the comfort of her grandma's cooking to come home to than to be a waitress in L.A. and have only a shabby apartment and an unemployed Aaron waiting for her. Aaron was still holding out (probably for fear of Lizzy).

Jane, even with the help of her parents, was unable to afford the combined burden of her mortgage, student loans, and wedding expenses. So she sold her little house (for a bit less than she had paid for it) and moved back into her parents' home. Despite all the hardships Aaron Goulding had caused her, Jane insisted on taking the lion's share of the blame for their failed relationship. She was certain she had been a dream crushing harpy who had pressured him into marriage before he was ready. No matter how many times Lizzy refuted this notion, Jane still believed it.

Mrs. Bennet felt the only way for Jane to get over her heart break was to find a new boyfriend. Preferably one with money. At least once a week she would come home with the name of some bachelor and plead with Jane to let her set them up. Occasionally she brought the actual bachelor home and they were all required to sit through an awkward dinner.

"I won't let Mom force you into anything you're not ready for." Lizzy announced after a long silence.

Jane sighed deeply, "She's only doing what she thinks is best. I just hope she doesn't foist me upon this poor Bingley person."

"Oh she will, but I'm sure he's used to it by now. Assuming he actually is the son of this famous dude. Mom has never been known for having her facts straight."

Seeing Jane brighten at this idea Lizzy continued, "It's very likely he's a balding, middle-aged, pharmaceutical salesman who happens to have the same name. Mom wouldn't foist you on _him_—probably."

"A balding pharmaceutical salesman sounds pretty good to me. This town needs some new blood," Char joked, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows to cheer Jane up.

Lizzy and Charlotte continued their silly banter until Jane was smiling again. The ridiculous antics of their mother also helped to lighten the mood. Franny Bennet certainly didn't need a Supervillian hat in order to gloat. Within minutes Debbie Goulding's triumph was forgotten in favor of talk concerning the celebrity who would be visiting Meryton come summer. The event was all in all a success (the town square definitely looked unique now) and Charlotte , who usually despised all things vulnerable and cuddly, even ended up adopting a dog.


	3. Accidental Agreement

**Author's note: I would like to take a moment to thank all of you who have favorited and followed my story. It is exceedingly satisfying to know there are people out there who are interested in this tale. I hope I won't disappoint any of you. **

**Special thanks to those who have left reviews, your words of encouragement are very appreciated. Any reader should feel free to leave comments even if they are critical. Negative reviews won't make me cry (too much) and can only aid in the development of my writing skills. **

**The biggest thanks of all goes to the remarkable Miss Austen, who I hope would not be too offended by my use of her plot and characters. **

**This chapter is more character development/background for Darcy. I am eager for him and Lizzy to meet as anybody, but the events of this chapter will be relevant later on in the story so please bear with me. I promise next chapter will be the big meeting. **

* * *

_I'm not _having_ a heart attack. _He wasn't. Surely he wasn't. He was only twenty-seven. Well, soon to be twenty-eight. Still, twenty-eight year olds didn't have heart attacks.

_Pain. Wasn't there supposed to be pain? _What he felt wasn't pain exactly. _And numbness. There was definitely supposed to be numbness. _His left arm wasn't numb. Nothing was numb, if anything he felt hyper-aware of everything from his fingers to his toes.

But his heart was racing and he just could not seem to breathe.

_I'm not having a heart attack._

"Mr. Darcy?"

It was his new administrative assistant that asked the question.

"Oh my God, Mr. Darcy?" she asked again approaching his desk with caution.

He wanted speak. He wanted to tell her all was fine. He wanted to at least sit up and save some of his dignity. But he couldn't. He remained slumped over even as she placed two fingers to his neck.

Moments later she was on the phone.

"I think my boss is having a heart attack."

He heard her give the address in shaky frantic gasps. The first responder told her to calm down. She didn't. Upon being assured help was on the way she fled his office shrieking down the hall.

Darcy was handling it better. _I'm not having a heart attack. I ran a half-marathon last year. I eat salad. I'm barely twenty-eight. I'm not having a heart attack._

His assistant returned with some suit from the accounting department at her side. The man was somewhat calmer. Or at least he presented a calm façade. Together they tried to shove an aspirin down his throat. He should be touched by their concern but he wanted to scream—_I'm not having a heart attack—_but no words would come. Then everything went dark.

* * *

"Good news! You didn't have a heart attack." The doctor cheerily proclaimed as he entered Darcy's hospital room, "You had a panic attack.

"Oh, thank goodness." This came from Georgiana who was sitting beside her brother clutching his hand as if she were the only thing holding him onto this mortal plane.

"Pardon?"

"You had a panic attack, Mr. Darcy," The doctor repeated.

"No, I didn't." Darcy quickly rebuffed, sounding rather petulant. His crabby mood could easily be excused. He'd had a hell of a day so far.

The doctor gave him an indulgent smile, "I understand from your sister that you have been under a lot stress lately."

"It wasn't a panic attack."

The doctor and Georgiana exchanged knowing looks. His sister had clearly been divulging a great deal about him.

"I've had panic attacks before. They've never been so bad." He felt foolish. He was responsible for all of Darcy Holding's multimillion dollar investments. How could he be considered competent if he was in the hospital for something as mild as a panic attack?

"Panic attacks can vary in severity. Have you been taking your prescription?" The doctor asked.

"Prescription?" Georgiana questioned looking alarmed.

Darcy glared at the man. The doctor had the grace to appear sheepish at this breach of privacy.

"It's Xanax, for anxiety," Darcy explained for his sister, "And Dr. Tilney instructed me to take it on an as needed basis." Truthfully he had not bothered to refill his prescription for some time. Though he would never admit it his pride was wounded by the idea that he needed a pill to function normally.

"You should take it any time you feel likely to experience a panic attack," the doctor lectured.

Before Darcy could argue the door to his room flew open. Darcy's cousin, Rick Fitzwilliam, and his godfather, Graham Thornton, entered. The room instantly felt smaller, undoubtedly from the effect of the newcomers' large personalities.

"I heard you suffered a bout of hysteria, my boy." This was from his godfather who delighted in teasing him.

Rick at least managed a serious face, "What happened?"

"Apparently I had a panic attack then experienced a temporary loss of consciousness due to lack of oxygen." Darcy replied reading the latter part directly from his medical chart.

Rick chuckled, "You fainted then."

"It would seem so," Darcy ground out, feigning anger. He couldn't help but crack a smile when Thornton burst out laughing.

"Can I leave now?" Darcy questioned the doctor.

"Yes, you're all fine. I'll send someone in with your release papers," the doctor replied before departing.

"I hope I didn't take you away from anything important? Exams?" This question was directed towards his cousin who was a grad student at Columbia University.

"No, nothing like that. I was just at the library studying like a model student ought," Rick replied primly, hints of his South Carolina accent coming through.

"Aren't you going to ask if I was busy?" Thornton asked.

Darcy scoffed, "No."

"I was in a very important meeting."

"Unlikely." Darcy quipped. His godfather was known for his devil-may-care attitude towards business and life in general. He was also known for setting up meetings he had no intention of actually attending. It was a miracle he managed to be such a successful investor.

"Fine, I was skipping a very important meeting."

All three men shared a laugh at this. Only Georgiana, who was still sitting silently beside her brother, remained gloomy.

"How is my most beautiful cousin today?" Rick asked kissing her cheek and tousling her blonde locks.

Speaking in almost a whisper she replied, "I'm very glad Will is okay."

Darcy smiled indulgently at his sister gently squeezing her hand which was still holding his. "I will be fine, I promise. But you must let go of my hand as I can barely feel it and will soon have to sign the release forms."

* * *

After Darcy's release from the hospital the four of them went to his favorite restaurant in Little Italy. Darcy was happy to see that Georgiana cheered considerably under the influence of Rick who was busy beguiling her with tales of his recent trip to Paris. Their distraction gave him the perfect opportunity to speak to Thornton.

"Have you looked at Sentinel's projections?" Thornton, like Darcy, was a member of the board of directors at Sentinel Financial.

"Of course not," Thornton replied with a smirk.

"You should. There's something off about the numbers."

Thornton waved this comment off dismissively, "Undoubtedly. You actually go to board meetings. You should know better than anyone what idiots they all are. Especially Daniels." Both Darcy and Thornton abhorred Sentinel's current CEO Travis Daniels, who was as incompetent as they come.

"I need you to be serious, Thornton. All of their retirement products are extremely overvalued. This is intentional, I'm quite sure."

Thornton scoffed, "No one, no matter how stupid, is up to that kind of corruption now. Not after Bear Sterns. Is this what sent you into a panic?" Thornton clearly thought he was overreacting.

"How could I not be concerned about," he paused to assess his surroundings then whispered vehemently, "_corruption_ going on in a company which my father spent so much effort building into a reliable financial institution?"

Thornton sighed, "I know, I know. George was as straight as an arrow and he knew how to work hard. But it put him in an early grave. Don't end up like him, Will. Don't start worrying about problems you don't have."

"I'm bringing it up at the meeting tomorrow. Be there."

Thornton rolled his eyes, "Yes, I'll be there. If I miss another I'll lose my seat. But this worry is for nothing. I'm sure one Daniel's moron lackeys just made a huge cock-up."

* * *

_ Fuck, Fuck, fuck this is going badly, _Darcy thought to himself_. _The Sentinel board meeting had descended into chaos the moment he had brought up his concerns. He cleared his throat and tried to reign in the room, _"_I think we need to analyze the situation in a calm, rational manner."

They continue arguing.

Though Will Darcy was not prone to obscenities his internal monologue was profanity filled today. _ I wish these spineless cocksuckers would shut the hell up. _Instead he called out into the fracas once more, "Gentlemen, can we please discuss this in an orderly fashion? One at a time." _What am I a fucking elementary school teacher? No wonder no one listens to me._

Thornton, seeing Darcy's frustration, loudly interjected, "You spineless cocksuckers need to shut the fuck up." Immediately everyone turned to stare at him. He looked very self-satisfied. "Darcy, my boy, you had something to say?"

"It would be wise to do some more research into the validity of these projections before we release them."

The CEO immediately began to rail, "The projections are perfectly valid."

"In which utopian universe?" Darcy retorted, "They're too optimistic by half. As they are the portfolios are lopsided by sector and therefore risky. To release those projections would be misleading."

Johnson, a senior director jumped to Daniels defense, "Everyone inflates their projections. There's no harm in it."

Darcy glowered at Johnson in disgust, "We are talking about our clients' retirement, a great deal of harm could be done by misrepresenting the return on our investments."

With that the yelling began anew. From what Darcy could make out of the nonsense most of the directors were in favor of publishing the projections as they were. Frustrated from feeling powerless, Darcy did something he had never done before and walked out of the meeting.

* * *

Upon returning to his Battery Park condo Darcy decided to call Bingley. He had gotten many concerned texts from his friend and many others he found concerning. From what he could tell, Bingley had taken leave of his senses and had gone on vacation to some podunk town in the Midwest.

It took several rings for Bingley to answer but when he did he was as jubilant as ever, "Darcy, I'm glad you're alive."

"Sorry I didn't call before. I hope I didn't cause any worry."

"No. Georgie texted me when you got the all clear."

"Good. How have you been?" What Darcy really meant was _have you lost your damn mind?_

"Wonderful. Unbelievably wonderful. I finished my screenplay," Bingley declared proudly.

"Really? Great. That was quick."

"Yeah, I've been struggling with the ending for some time now. You made me realize I was just making excuses because I was afraid of failure. So I finished it. Then I gave it to Dad to look over."

"Did he think it had potential?"

"His said it was bloody terrible," Bingley oddly sounded extremely happy about this.

Darcy tried to find some reassuring words, "That's um—."

Bingley continued on undeterred, "He said my story lacked a real understanding of the setting. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, it is set in the Midwest after all."

"I was always confused by your choice of setting to be honest. Especially considering—."

"Considering I'd never been there. I've always found the Midwest to be very alluring. You know?"

"Not even slightly."

"I wanted a quaint, wholesome backdrop to contrast my sordid plot line. But when I got here I realized this place is so . . . it's so—"

"It's just as corrupt as anywhere else."

"No, no it's wonderful. It's just so much more than I expected."

Darcy made a non-committal noise.

"I'm so glad I decided to come here. I really think it will improve my writing."

Darcy grunted once more. He had a feeling Bingley could have this conversation all by himself.

"I think you should join me here."

This got Darcy's attention, "I'm not going to some backwoods in Illinois," his voice betraying the amusement he felt. _How could Bingley even think I would consider such a thing?_

"Meryton is in Indiana."

"That's worse."

"You should come read my screenplay."

"You could email it to me."

"I haven't seen you in person in years."

"Don't exaggerate. It's only been fourteen months—fifteen." _Fine, that sounded like quite a bit of time to go without seeing one's best friend. _

"It would be a wonderful experience. And you really need some time off."

_Why on earth is Bingley saying 'wonderful' so damn much? _"I can't take time off right now. Sentinel is in a bit of a crisis."

"Something is always in crisis. You need to take some time for yourself. I'm not saying you have to come to Meryton but you should consider getting away for a while."

"Fine. I'll come to Meryton." Darcy had no idea what had come over him. Bingley had been talking so rapidly and badgering him so thoroughly he just said the first thing he could think of that would shut him up. Unfortunately it was the last thing he wanted to say.

"Really?" Bingley sounded so excited Darcy knew there was no way he could retract. He would have to find some way to get out of this. Sudden illness or perhaps death of an obscure relative? While Darcy was trying to determine the best method of escape Bingley rattled off all the 'wonderful' things to do and see in Meryton.


	4. In A Ditch

Much to her mother's chagrin, Elizabeth Bennet had always been one of those kids who took apart every appliance in the house in order to see how it worked (most of the time she put them back together). So it was not much a surprise to anyone when she took over her grandfather's auto repair shop.

At first, it was awesome. So many challenges to figure out and new fixes to implement. But then it got a bit dull. After all, Meryton was a small town, only so many people had cars and only so many of those cars broke down. And then of course there were all those lovely chauvinists who found the idea of a woman changing their oil emasculating.

But worst of all was the accounting. How could she not have realized that running a business involved so much freakin' accounting? Lizzy enjoyed solving mechanical problems. The problem of how the hell she was going to afford to keep this place running _and_ pay her employees was another issue entirely. And if her bookkeeping was correct, she could be in serious trouble this month.

"Your cousin is an idiot." Marshall Hill called to Lizzy as he removed the dashboard from Haley Phillip's Beetle, "There's nothing wrong with this car."

About once a month Lizzy's cousin would bring her car into the shop and insist there was something wrong with it. A regular vehicular hypochondriac. She would also insist she receive a family discount (which according to her was free service).

"Loose nut between steering wheel and seat," Lizzy replied with a laugh as she glanced up from her laptop. That was another problem with this business. People are idiots. It seemed like half the time the problem with the vehicle was the driver.

Mike Rangler entered the shop breathing heavily. Once he regained enough composure to speak he said, ""Hey Liz, I think someone just jacked your truck."

"Not amusing, Mike." Lizzy said dismissively going back to the dull world of expenses and revenue.

"Serious, I was out there having a smoke and it just pulled off the lot."

Lizzy regarded him suspiciously, the guys were always pulling pranks on her. "Hill, what's the joke?" Marshall Hill could always be relied upon to give away any shenanigans the others came up with. Observing his convincingly clueless expression she approached the window.

Esmeralda, her powder blue, 1964 Chevrolet C-10 short bed fleetside, was nowhere to be seen. Lizzy was outside in a flash with Mike and Marshall at her heels.

"Oooooohh, this is so not funny. Where the hell is my truck?"

"I told you, someone stole it!"

"What did you do? Did you park it in back?" Lizzy was already walking to the back of the garage before anyone could stop her. The back lot was just as it always was— a stack of old tires and the rusted out shell of a Ford Pinto.

"Lizzy, I'm telling you, we had nothing to do with it." Mike exclaimed with such honesty Lizzy nearly believed him. She looked to Marshall who still seemed utterly baffled.

"Why would anyone steal my truck?"

"Fuck if I know. Biggest piece of shit on the lot, that Pinto included." He said gesturing to the rust bucket in front of them. Mike delighted in terrorizing Lizzy about her beloved Chevy.

"I will not tolerate critical remarks about Esmeralda." Esmeralda was a gift from her grandfather, they had restored her together. She was the last project they had done before his stroke left him barely able to walk and talk.

Lizzy stormed to the front parking lot once more. Carefully she inspected the space her truck had once occupied. It was there in the gravel she founding a damning clue. A Hello Kitty hair clip.

"They are so dead." She darted back into the garage frantically. Mike and Marshall still following like puppies.

"Tom, could you please lock up? We both know these idiots never remember." Lizzy asked the elderly man behind the service desk as she placed the keys in front of him. Tom had worked for her grandfather, he had supposedly retired but he came into Gardiner's Repair at least twice a week just to piddle on his own projects. Tom nodded in reply.

She shouldn't be leaving. But it was forty-five minutes till close, Haley's car was the only one in the shop, and she really, really needed to kill at least one of her little sisters. Probably two.

* * *

Will Darcy was living a nightmare. He was driving a BMW through what only could be described as a trailer park. Darcy wasn't sure what was worse, the car (it was the only acceptable option the rental dealer had) or the location (which so far was fulfilling every stereotype he had ever heard about trailer parks). Most of the "yards" were landscaped with trashed out couches (and the occasional toilet). Shirtless rednecks sat in lawn chairs holding cans of cheap beer (or in one terrifying instance a rifle). Darcy was driving slowly over the poorly paved lane wondering why he hadn't taken Bingley up on his offer to pick him up at the airport.

He was also wondering where he could turn around. BMWAssist had led him here, to this little slice of Tartarus, solidifying his idea that BMWs were inferior automobiles. To Darcy BMWs (or Bimmers as the tools who drove them insisted on calling them) were all flash no class. Audis screamed, 'Look what my Daddy bought me'. But Mercedes, they were sensible and sophisticated. He knew he had no rational defense for this belief as he knew nothing about cars. It was just something he had been raised with. Darcys drove Mercedes, Darcys went to Harvard, Darcys worked five to nine and if a Darcy should somehow find time for a vacation he went to Martha's Vineyard or Aspen, definitely not to small towns called Meryton. Small, nonexistent towns if Siri was to be believed.

"Siri, find nearest gas station, please." he politely commanded his phone. If he was going to stop and ask for directions it certainly wasn't going to be in _this_ neighborhood. Just as he pulled over to check the results an ancient blue Chevy flew at him narrowly missing him even as he eased off the road. The Chevy was closely followed by another truck, this one a behemoth decked out with a confederate flag. Both trucks blasted their horns as they swerved down the road.

* * *

After unsuccessfully calling her father Lizzy sat out to walk the three and a half miles home. Once there, she hoped to glean any information she could from Mary on the whereabouts of her twin, Kitty. She had called Mary, of course, but there had been no answer. Still, home was the most likely place for her antisocial little sis to be, even on a Friday afternoon. Plus, the walk home might give her time to cool off, reducing her desire to commit sororicide.

Her rang out its cheerful tone as she stomped her way down County Road 150.

"I got your message. What's the problem, Lizzy?" The ever-so-calm voice of Ed Bennet queried.

She took a few deep breaths to compose herself. Mr. Bennet already got enough dramatics from his wife and younger daughters, _she_ was certainly not going to add to his burden, "Kitty, undoubtedly at the urging of Lydia, has stolen my truck."

Mr. Bennet made a non-committal grunt.

"You don't sound surprised," Lizzy said accusingly.

"Well, before I left they were all talking in the living room, they seemed friendly. A little later all three of them headed to town. On foot." Mr. Bennet admitted guiltily.

Lizzy let out a frustrated sigh at his lack of parenting, "You saw Mary, Kitty and Lydia together by choice, seemingly in harmony, possibly colluding and you did nothing? Have you forgotten the silly string incident of 2009?"

"How could I? My boat is still covered with it."

"Did you hear any of their plans?" She knew the answer would be negative but she asked all the same, "And where are you?"

"I heard nothing. I'm no fool. And I'm at Patoka Lake, if you must know. Don't tell your mother."

Lizzy sighed again. He was fishing. She should have known, "You are never home. I'm beginning to think you have another family. Do you have sons? Does your other wife let you wear your Hawaiian shirt?" She joked, "And who is running your business while you're gone?"

"That Bingley character is the only renter at this point. He's hardly going to make a fuss and if he does your mother will just send Jane over anyway. I'm of no use, you see." He paused a moment turning serious, "I do hope nothing happens to your truck. I know how much it means to you. Don't worry about dealing with your sisters. I'll punish them when I get back."

Lizzy nearly laughed. Her father never followed through with a punishment. That was why her little sisters were playing Grand Theft Auto with her Esmeralda. "I'll just kill one to make a point. That'll leave you four. Four children is surely enough." With that she hung up the phone. _Where to go now?_

Back to town was the only option she supposed. From her own days of mischief she knew teenagers hung out in the parking lot behind Martha's General Store until dark when they'd slink off to make out at Scale's Farm or raise hell on Oakham Mount. She couldn't imagine what they were all doing together since Mary hadn't been close to the others for years now and Kitty and Lydia's sisterly affection had recently been threatened by some boy-drama. But she figured it would be best to check Martha's first.

As she neared the junction ahead some idiot in a BMW came barreling off the old highway onto the county road. The blacktop ended suddenly there and the driver did what an idiot does when he hits gravel—braked. Needless to say the car slid off the road into the ditch not twenty feet from where she stood. She knew she should wipe the giant grin off her face. The last thing a person who had just embarrassed themselves thoroughly wanted to see was her amused smirk, yet she found she just couldn't stop smiling.

Then the driver got out of the car, and though Lizzy would never admit it in this lifetime, that grin fell away into a wide-eyed gape. He was gorgeous. Lizzy was not the sort to go all googly-eyed over every attractive dude, but this man was, to borrow a favorite phrase of Lydia's, unimaginably, amazingly, indescribably, totes hot.

Luckily Lizzy regained her composure quickly. "Nice car," she chimed as she approached the man who was standing at the front of the coup.

_Great. Another girl impressed with my car. She'd probably faint if she saw what I really drive. _Darcy thought unkindly. _Just what I need some skinny kid to gawk at what an idiot I've made of myself._

The man moodily thanked her for the compliment not even bothering to meet her eyes. Something about his demeanor just made her want to needle him further. "Nice driving," she added teasingly. His eyes flashed with annoyance but he said nothing.

He had been going so fast he'd nearly crossed Both the front and rear wheels on the right side were sunk in mud. Darcy contemplated getting back in the car and simply trying to drive it out but from the looks of it that would only result in him spinning in the mud and further trapping the car.

"I need something to put under the wheel," he said to himself. Darcy didn't understand the presence of the girl at all. Shouldn't she continue towards her destination? Surely, even here, people had things to do.

Lizzy amusedly looked on as he traipsed about the ditch in his fancy clothes looking for something to give his wheels traction. After discounting some soggy cardboard and a bit of tree bark he seemed a bit defeated. Lizzy knew she should take pity on him.

"Your floor mats, perhaps?" She suggested with a wicked grin. Finally, he looked at her. She refused to analyze how inordinately pleased that made her.

He quickly went to the passenger's side, pulled out the floor mat and placed it under his front wheel.

"You'll want to put that behind your drive wheels." She almost snickered at the quizzical look he gave her.

"This car is rear wheel drive. You'll need to put that behind the rear wheel and back the car out."

When he continued to stare at her she gave an exasperated sigh open up the driver's side door and pulled the floor mat out from that side. After wedging the mat beneath the stuck rear wheel she stood up and looked expectantly at him.

Darcy supposed he ought to listen to her. He didn't know how long he would have stood there looking for something if she hadn't suggested the floor mats.

When he got in the car Lizzy backed up a safe distance in order to watch. For one frightening moment the car didn't move, only growled as it spun, then suddenly it jolted backwards up the incline and out of the ditch.

"Don't worry, your precious baby is muddy, but unharmed." Lizzy teased. The man had gotten out of the car once more and was inspecting the muck-covered side.

"It's a rental," he explained.

_Goodness_, Lizzy thought_, if this is how he drives a rental_ . . . . "Good thing the airbags didn't go off or the car would have tattled on you."

He only nodded in reply. _Ugh, so handsome but so dull._

Picking up the floor mats she shook the sludge off of them before handing them over to the mystery man who had yet to introduce himself.

"Thanks. And thank you for the advice." He seemed sincere enough. She supposed he might not be as terribly stand-offish as he seemed.

"Anytime. You should probably consider slowing down. And no hard braking on gravel. Just tap your brakes." Her mother was always reminding her that a man never wanted to be told how to drive, but this guy needed it.

Lizzy was already walking away when he yelled out, "One more question. Do you know where Silver Lakes Village is? I have a friend who is lodging there."

"Keep following this road until you get to the little white church on the hill then take a right on Drown Crick Road then go about a mile then take another right on Silver Lake Lane and there you are."

* * *

It was a quarter till nine and her younger sisters still weren't home. Lizzy had gone to Martha's, the girls weren't there and the kids that were had no information worthwhile. Jane had picked her up from there and they had driven all over Meryton looking for their sisters. Now Lizzy was at home trying to keep their mother under control while Jane and Mr. Bennet (who had very grudgingly cut his fishing trip short) continued the search. The local police (who were already familiar with Lydia) were out looking as well. At this point there was nothing to do but wait. Something Mrs. Bennet was terrible at.

"What if they've crashed!" Mrs. Bennet howled dramatically, "That death trap of yours doesn't even have airbags! They'll be dead for sure."

"Mom, there's no need to worry about things that haven't happened."

"Why would they do such a thing? You shouldn't have left your keys just lying about. It was too much temptation."

"Yes, it's my fault they went for a joy ride."

"Oh, and what if the cops find them first? What if they get arrested? How will I face the Ladies Auxiliary on Thursday?"

Lizzy rolled her eyes, "They're all still juveniles. They won't get arrested."

"Yes, but what if the story ends up in the Meryton Journal?" Clearly, there was no comforting her mother, she was determined to worry.

Lizzy was worried, too. This was the sort of behavior they had all come to expect out of Lydia. But Mary and Kitty were usually halfway sensible. Kitty and Mary had only been driving for a year and Lydia had yet to get her license. As seen by the events of earlier, these backroads were tricky to drive on. What if they had gotten in a wreck?

She needed something to do to distract her from these fears. "Let's clean the oven!"

Mrs. Bennet gave her second daughter a look of disbelief.

"Come on," Lizzy pleaded, "You're always saying it needs doing."

"I can't think of cleaning right now. I'm so tense."

Lizzy grabbed her mother's hands and yanked her off the couch, "Yes, now! We need the distraction."

"Fine, I'll get the rags. You mix up some baking soda and vinegar." Mrs. Bennet said heading towards the utility room. Seconds later she bustled back into the living room, "Towels!" she shouted ambiguously, before running out of the room once more.

Lizzy, who had long since learned how to ignore her mother's strange conduct, continued to the kitchen to mix up the cleaner. Mrs. Bennet entered the kitchen shortly after not with rags but with a laundry basket full of the fancy guest towels for the cabins.

"Change your clothes. That dress with the blue roses would do, I think," Mrs. Bennet demanded. Yep, her mother had finally lost it. She wanted her to wear her best dress to clean the oven.

"What?"

"I need you to take these towels to Netherfield Lodge. Charlie asked for them hours ago but it slipped my mind." She paused to sigh theatrically, "It would be better if Jane were here to do it. But no matter. Charlie apparently has a friend visiting. I haven't completely given up on you yet. Now go put on the dress."

"You want me to take them towels in the middle of the night?" Why was she asking? Of course, her mother would think that was perfectly appropriate.

"It's barely even dark. These city types don't sleep at night anyway. And comb your hair!" Mrs. Bennet lectured.

She did comb her hair but she refused to change her clothes. Bingley's friend had already seen her in her jeans and T-shirt, after all. Mrs. Bennet tried to pressure her into driving her car over but Lizzy refused. Netherfield was only a half-mile straight through the woods and Lizzy knew the path well.

* * *

Bingley had been surprised by his friend's early arrival (truly, he was surprised Darcy hadn't chickened out entirely). The cabin had a lovely view of a waterfall and small pond and he and Darcy had spent the evening sitting on the back porch drinking beer and reminiscing about their college days.

"So how did you find this place so easily?" Bingley asked, remembering how difficult locating the cabin had been.

"Easily?" Darcy scoffed, "Clearly, you didn't look at my car."

Bingley pressed for details.

"I was lost half the morning. Saw far more hillbilly rednecks than I ever wanted to see in my lifetime." He looked to Bingley at this comment knowing full well his friend would scold him for such speech.

"The people here are very nice," Bingley said, as expected.

Darcy continued, "And I ended up in a ditch."

"What?" Bingley exclaimed in disbelief, "You're usually such a safe driver."

"That car makes me drive fast," Darcy defended.

Bingley laughed at his friend's weak justification, "How did you get out?"

"An impertinent kid gave me some good advice," Darcy explained vaguely.

_Why do I detect a hint of admiration in his voice? _Bingley wondered. Darcy was hard to impress.

"Did you get his name?"

"No, I didn't get her name. It was a girl—a woman."

"Was she pretty?" Bingley asked mischievously. Darcy could tell Bingley, ever the storyteller, had already imagined up a romance.

He certainly had no desire to be part of his friend's matchmaking scheme, "No, not really." When he'd first laid eyes on her he'd found her to be cute in a youthful sort of way, causing him to immediately dismiss her as a mouthy teenager. But as their interaction had continued he'd noticed her eyes. It was not just their exquisite color, moss green, but their expressiveness, which intrigued him. But he was not about to tell Bingley this. He would think him in love with her for sure.

Darcy continued, "They'd probably call her cute," with a poorly executed Midwestern accent he added, " 'Round here ."

Bingley gave him a reproachful glare.

"But she wasn't anything I'd find tempting."

* * *

Lizzy had not been trying to eavesdrop. She had knocked on the front door of the lodge and gotten no answer. Hearing voices on the back porch she had walked around the house. Not quietly. Not in any way trying to sneak up on them. They had simply failed to hear her. But she had not failed to hear them.

Or more particularly, _him_.

No one with a sister as beautiful as Jane could have a great deal of vanity. But Lizzy had always liked what she saw when she looked in the mirror. She was confident, but that had still hurt._ She wasn't anything I'd find tempting_. Really, what a ridiculous thing to say! Especially about someone who had helped him. Such insults illustrated perfectly what a rude jerk he was.

No, she absolutely refused to be hurt by someone so ridiculous. Dropping the basket of towels by the front door she fled into the woods determined to laugh at this incident.

Upon returning to the house she found a police car in the driveway. Rushing inside, fearing the worst, she was greeted by her hysterical mother and two guilty looking sisters. Lydia stood between two police officers batting her eyelashes flirtatiously, completely unrepentant.

"Thank God you're okay." Lizzy said pulling Mary (who was the closest) into a hug.

Kitty shifted uncomfortably, "Lizzy, about your truck . . . ." Kitty drifted off only causing suspense.

"We got it hung up in a ditch," Mary finished, hanging her head in shame.

Lydia, inappropriate as ever, laughed and added, "It's stuck real good."


End file.
